


His Red Queen

by WorldofThrones



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Lobster Flame, Public Display of Affection, Slight fluff, as fluffy as it can get with Stannis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 17:04:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19727992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorldofThrones/pseuds/WorldofThrones
Summary: "The nobles gathered in the Red Keep, wanting to catch a glimpse of their new queen, but Stannis didn't seem to notice them. Tonight, he noticed no one but her."••• Stannis Baratheon has won the Battle of Blackwater. Now he rules over the Seven Kingdoms with his red shadow. His priestess who is not only a priestess anymore, but his queen.





	His Red Queen

**Author's Note:**

> There are clearly not enough writers for Lobster Flame, so here we go.  
> Just a little one shot because I love my fiery babies so much and they deserve to be happy for once. Maybe I'll make this into a longer story one day.  
> Prompts: holding hands & his queen & "it looks good on you"

She had always been his queen.

Her crown was a symbol of their union. It was made of gold but had so many rubies in it that one could barely see the metal underneath. The biggest ruby shone as red as Melisandre's eyes, right in the centre, and reminded him of fiery nights with his priestess.

He had never been a charming person, neither someone to smile much, but in recent times he found himself doing it more than he used to. And all his smiles belonged to her, her and Shireen alone.

His two silver linings in a world full of darkness and terrors.

The smith had shown him quite a lot of designs, but this one reminded him of Melisandre… _And himself._

The crown seemed to be fire itself, flames reaching for the sky and the stars and everything within reach. But there weren't only flames. There was the abstract form of a stag within rubies and metal. A stag kissed by fire. His own crown was plain and simple, nothing more than a golden circle with one single ruby.

He wanted Melisandre to shine, and that was exactly what she did.

She had helped him win the Iron Throne and now she wouldn't rule by his side as his advisor, but as his queen. Even Davos was now glad that he couldn't convince the king to leave Melisandre behind at the Battle of Blackwater.

The Hand of the King stood besides two of his sons and explained something to them while Devan gazed at Melisandre from across the room. Shireen was with them, a wooden stag in her hands she always kept with her wherever she went. She smiled.

It was getting crowded in the Throne Room. The nobles gathered in the Red Keep, wanting to catch a glimpse of their new queen, but Stannis didn't seem to notice them. Tonight, he noticed no one but her. His red priestess. His red _queen._

That was what they called her—the Red Queen. Red from head to toe, from her foreign, but stunningly beautiful looking flame-red dress to her copper hair. For once, she didn't look like a priestess. The crown fit her head as if it had always been meant to rest there. He didn't mind that she was lowborn and not even a native Westerosi, and R'hllor forbid if anyone ever would.

After Selyse died from a terrible fever a few moons ago, it hadn't been a mystery who his next wife was going to be. In her last days, Melisandre had soothed her with words and songs. He had grieved for her, just as Shireen, and he still did in his own way. But there were more important matters to focus on. He had to rule the Seven Kingdoms.

"My king, is everything alright? You keep staring at me."

Melisandre's voice jolted him out of his thoughts. It was like a melody, a melody that never failed to calm him in moments of anger or doubt.

 _My king_. She still called him my king. "Husband.", he corrected her, noticing how strange it felt telling her to address him as such. But that was the truth from now on, a truth that no man could deny.

She had hesitated at first, told him that a priestess can't be queen, but in the end she had no choice but to accept his proposal. He was her champion, as she always said. Her warrior of light and life.

He almost believed her.

"Your dress." He nodded in her direction. His gaze was stern as always, but Melisandre smiled anyway.

"What of it, husband? I thought it would be appropriate for this occasion."

Stannis nodded again. "It is. It looks good on you."

Now she understood—and he couldn't help but feel weak under her hand that so gently caressed his arm.

"You can look as long as you want. I am yours now.", she purred. "We are married before the one true God."

 _His. Had she ever been something else?_ , he thought to himself. When he first saw her, she was nothing more than some foreign priestess and a welcome occupation for Selyse. Little by little, as the time went by, she had managed to swallow him, heart and soul. He wanted to claim her, to possess her, to call her his and his alone.

Nevertheless, Stannis was no fool. She would always belong to her god as much as she belonged to him. With him he had to share Melisandre for better or for worse.

Stannis did not answer in words. Instead, he took her small hand in his big one and stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, the way she normally did when they were alone.

"Let us dance.", she proposed, leaning her head against his shoulder for a split second.

Stannis hated dancing, but her hand felt warm and soft, so he danced. He never wanted to let go.


End file.
